


Earned it

by MyBoyBlue



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Ivar has abandonment issues, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBoyBlue/pseuds/MyBoyBlue
Summary: Set in Season 5 episode 2 of Vikings, with Floki leaving and his brothers mistrusting him, Ivar is dealing with some abandonment issues. Reader, a shieldmaiden from Ivar’s past decides to take matters into her own hands.





	Earned it

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so this is actually my first real fic you guys! I just recently started watching Vikings and what can I say? Inspiration struck me like a sledgehammer and I had to start writing again. I’ve worked very hard on this one with the help of my amazing beta and well, here’s the finished product. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I am doing Ivar (such a complex character) some justice as well. :)
> 
> Feedback and comments are greatly appreciated!

The looming feeling of unease hadn’t left you alone since the usurping of Aslaug back in Kattegat. You knew, as soon as Lagertha released the string of her bow and shot an arrow into the queen’s back, that an unsettling series of events had just been set in motion.

You thought of the young - former - prince with whom you had grown up alongside with in the village. You summoned up early memories of the precocious, yet sweet boy who had turned into a scornful and conflicted young man with a sharp tongue and sadness in his searching eyes.

After the death of his parents Ivar had grown even more frustrated, a chaotic sort of wrath brewing inside of him and mixing with a cold determination that relentlessly pushed him forward. His search for revenge seemed unsated; even after the avenging of Ragnar’s death he couldn’t find enough peace in his heart to let go and move on.

It all had reached its culmination at yesterday’s feast celebrating the victory of killing King Ecbert, when Ivar in a fit of blind rage had flung an axe at Sigurd, killing the older brother on the spot.

For the first time you had truly felt fearful. Not of him, but for him. Tensions were already rising in the camp as whispers of Ivar’s sanity, or rather lack thereof, had begun circulating amongst the warriors. Madness, they called it, but you knew better than that.

Your musings were interrupted by the thump of hooves on soft ground and the rattling of a chariot coming to a halt near the large main tent in the encampment where you sat polishing your armor. You heard the familiar sound of shuffling and grunting as Ivar crawled through the opening, not even sparing you a glance as he hoisted himself up on a chair by the center table and poured himself a cup of ale.

You cast a wary glance in his direction as you meticulously worked on your helmet. After downing most of the ale he slammed the cup on the table.

“Where are my brothers?” Ivar demanded. “We have battle plans to discuss.”

He still didn’t bother to look your way. You snorted.

“How would I know Ivar? I am not their servant girl. In fact, I have been sitting here waiting for all of you.” You paused your polishing work briefly to quirk an eyebrow at him.

Ivar huffed irately, twirling the mug between his fingers.

“I had some matters to attend to”, he muttered, swigging down the last of his ale in one big gulp.

“I find it hard to believe you would find anything else more important than the forthcoming raid on York right now. You sounded very urgent earlier”, you smirked half jokingly.

His head snapped in your direction, eyes shooting icy daggers.

“And what do you know about what is important, hm? You forget that I am the leader of this great army and you would be wise to trust my judgement on these things”, Ivar snapped, leaning forward on his elbows. “Or is it perhaps doubt I am sensing in you, Y/N?”

“You know that is not true, Ivar”, you retorted, slightly unsettled by his sudden anger.

After all these years, you still hadn’t mastered the art of predicting his outbursts, which, if you were being honest, frustrated you to no end. Slowly you stood up and walked towards him - like one would approach a wounded animal - and sat down facing him.

“Something happened.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Ivar quickly averted his eyes from yours, swallowing thickly in an effort to keep his emotions in check.

“Floki is leaving”, Ivar huffed after a moment, a hard smile etched across his features. “Putting his life in the hands of the gods, thinking that he is some hero. But I know him. He is nothing more than a fool and a coward.”

“I heard rumours about it. I guess it is true then”, you gave a sad smile in return.

You knew Ivar saw the boatbuilder as a father figure, especially during the years Ragnar went missing. You knew Floki’s departure hurt him more than he would ever admit, but before you had the opportunity to continue, Ubbe and Hvitserk decided it was time to show up.

»»————-¤————-««

You lingered behind after the meeting, gathering up the pieces of your armor left scattered around the workbench. Ivar sat by the table, finishing up his dinner.

“My brothers. They do not believe in me. I know they agree with me out of fear. I know they think I am mad, just like everybody else does”, Ivar spoke matter-of-factly, his tone carefully nonchalant.

You could sense the agitation behind his words and felt slightly taken aback by his admission. Ivar had a habit of letting his guard down during the most unexpected of moments, letting you see a glimpse behind that brash façade he was so keen on projecting to the outside world.

“Not everybody else”, you replied, trying to sound neutral, but offering him a small smile over your shoulder.

Ivar paused mid-bite to peer at you studiously. His intense gaze followed you as you prepared to retire for the evening. Just as you were about to exit the tent he called after you quietly.

“Stay, Y/N.”

You hesitated at the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his proposal.

“Are you not tired?” You asked finally, turning on your heel.

You felt spent after a full day of creating a somewhat sensible battle plan and acting as the mediator amongst three stubborn brothers with quite varying views and opinions on the matter.

“No”, he answered simply, hands clasped on the tabletop, not offering any further explanation.

Your gut feeling told you that this was an opportunity to be grasped. Ivar was openly reaching out to you and you could never be certain if, or when, a chance like this would present itself again. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and returned to sit by him at the table, facing him sideways. It looked as if Ivar was going through an internal battle of sorts as silence, apart from the crackling in the fire pit, filled the space between you for a stretch of time. You busied yourself with pouring him and yourself a cup of ale. He nodded and took a grateful gulp before speaking, his voice subdued and a little unsteady.

“I am afraid they are going to leave me too, Y/N. After Sigurd I… they keep away from me. And now, even Floki…”

He kept staring straight ahead intently as a single tear, which he was quick to angrily wipe away with the back of his hand, slid down his cheek. Then another. And another. He looked away but you could still see the quiet sob rocking his shoulders. Heartache filled your chest at the sight of the distressed young viking in front of you. A whisper of his name and a tentative brush of fingers on his arm made Ivar flinch, but there was otherwise no attempt to move away.

“People fear what they do not understand. They fear those that stand out and they fear you, Ivar, because against all the odds you have risen to the top”, you consoled, not quite believing how easily the words stumbled out once you found your voice.

“I do not need your pity, shieldmaiden. You do not need to comfort me with empty words. I know what I am.” There was no heat behind his words, only a slight edge. A warning.

“No, I do not feel pity for you Ivar. I know you do not need it. I see the strength the gods have bestowed upon you. It might be invisible to the eye, but it is what makes you the leader of our army. It is what makes the warriors ultimately respect you”, you continued to rub soothing circles on his shoulder, making him ease up a little bit.

“You talk about my anger. But what about it, hm? What am I but a weak cripple without it?” he spat, disgust contorting his beautiful features. “It is like a beast that I cannot control when it overcomes me.”

You let your hand wander to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in soft locks of hair.

“Control is something acquired over time. You are clever, you will learn. Besides, if you ask me, control is overrated anyway”, you smirked at him, trying to light up the mood a little. Ivar rolled his eyes at you.

Suddenly feeling determined, you let your thumb sweep away a remaining tear from Ivar’s cheek as you made him look at you.

“I have believed in you ever since we played together as children in Kattegat and I believe in you now, more than ever.” You spoke the words directly and sincerely. “I only wish you could see what I see.”

Something shifted in Ivar as his eyes grew wide. He looked so heartachingly defenseless and innocent for a moment. Almost hopeful.

Afraid the moment would pass too soon, you took your chance and leaned forward pressing your lips to his. It was chaste and Ivar didn’t reciprocate immediately, his lips pliable and slightly parted in surprise beneath yours, eyes widening further.

“Please tell me if I am acting out of place”, you whispered as you withdrew, suddenly feeling somewhat self-conscious by the boldness of your actions.

“No, no I… Why are you…?” Ivar swallowed hard, frozen in his seat, not appearing fearful but rather uncertain of how to act.

“It is about time you get what you truly deserve-” Your hand moved from Ivar’s cheek to brush away a stray test of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “-If it is something that you want, that is.” You could see Ivar starting to protest but you cut him off before he had the chance to speak. “It is not out of pity.”

His demeanor softened then, letting himself lean into your touch with a sigh.

»»————-¤————-««

You spent a good while caressing his hair and outlining the line lines and curves of his face with your fingers. Ivar looked almost drowsy, slowly blinking at you, but a plan had begun to take form in your mind.

“Come”, you whispered, getting up and moving over to a great, plush bear skin lying in front of the firepit.

Ivar straightened in his seat, snapping out of his reverie and appraising you warily. After a moment he lowered himself down onto the floor and crawled over to where you already sat kneeling on the soft fur. You cupped his face in your hands, silently asking for permission, before leaning in and kissing him again. Slowly. Deliberately. Ivar hummed softly at the contact, as if the connection brought him some relief, and started moving his lips beneath yours in return. His movements were more timid and uncertain, but he was eager to learn, soon willing to explore deeper.

“Tell me what you want, Ivar.” Your voice sounded husky in your ears as you broke off the kiss with a final, playful nibble on his plump lower lip.

“I want to please you… But I think you have already heard the stories. ” Shame and bitterness flushed his cheeks red as he averted his gaze. You felt a twinge of compassion towards Ivar, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Still, though not as often anymore, you would hear the insistent rumour of “Ivar and the slave girl”, recalled in hushed whispers by fellow warriors and common folk around the village.

“Do you trust me?” You tipped his chin upward, making him look at you.

Ivar swallowed and blinked a few times before giving a small nod.

You took his hands in yours and begun to slowly untie his bracers. One after the other you slid them off his wrists, massaging his calloused palms gently, never breaking eye contact. You brought his fingers to your mouth, letting them brush over your lips, before kissing each digit separately. You paused at his middle and index finger, tentatively licking to taste him before enclosing your lips around them and sucking hard.

Something carnal flashed in the deep blue of Ivar’s eyes as his lips parted, tongue sliding hungrily between his teeth.

You smiled mischievously around his fingers, pulling away with a pop. You let go of his hand to gently push at his chest to make him lay back on the fur.

Ivar stumbled backwards on his elbows with a surprised little huff, making you giggle as you slid up the length of his body and zeroed in on his neck, placing a tender kiss right below his ear.

You could feel his pulse quickening and the rush of blood beneath your lips as Ivar instinctively bared his neck to you.

“That’s a good boy”, you rasped in his ear, reveling in the way Ivar’s whole body jolted in response. He surprised you then by gripping your arm harshly and glaring at you.

“What do you think you are you doing, mær?” he hissed, trying his best to regain some of his composure, clearly flustered about unwittingly submitting to you. “You think I will let a woman … ah!”

Ivar trembled beneath you as your teeth sank down hard on his pulse point, letting your tongue soothe the tender skin seconds later. His head fell back despite himself as you kept mumbling sweet nothings against his blazing skin.

“It is okay Ivar, you can let go now. Just let go.” Your only chance to get through the walls he had put up around himself was when he was open and susceptible.

Reluctantly Ivar let himself be pushed all the way down, grabbing at your hips as he tried to even out his breathing enough to gain back some of his focus.

“I do not need your coddling, woman”, he spat out, not managing to sound very convincing as urgent hands came to tug at the hem of your tunic.

“Even great warriors need time to unwind”, you retorted, becoming momentarily distracted by the insistent, forceful pulling on your shirt.

You almost tipped sideways and Ivar used the opportunity to swiftly roll on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him with his hips. He held himself up with one arm as something almost lascivious glinted in his eyes. He bit his lip and let his hand wander beneath your shirt, thumb experimentally grazing the edge of your ribcage, fingers skimming further along the swell of your breast.

You let out a sigh, arching up to his touch instinctively, nearly forgetting your initial plan.

His touches kept oscillating between rough and featherlight, demanding and exploring, making you dizzy with want and making Ivar’s mouth curve into a wicked grin.

Somehow you managed to come to your senses enough to not give in to his will completely. You looked up at Ivar challengingly and hooked your legs around his waist, holding him in a vice grip as you ground your hips against his firmly.

“Very well, elskan”, you purred sickly sweet in response. “We can play by your rules too.”

The black of his pupils spilled out like raven ink over his irises as he bit back a groan. He was trying hard to seem unaffected but the arms bracketing your sides had begun to tremble violently. You took it as an opportunity to tackle him down and straddle his waist. Ivar growled then, seemingly irritated, but the slight throb you felt against your clothed core told you otherwise.

“I seem to recall you talking about pleasing me”, you smirked, ignoring his sour mood and pulling off your tunic in one swift motion.

For a moment Ivar was rendered speechless, caught off guard, as he scanned over your bare torso, eyes drinking in every curve and edge.

“Go on, you can touch me”, you coaxed, unabashedly but gently placing Ivar’s hands on your breasts.

The annoyance that seemed to quickly seep out of him was replaced by awe as he hesitantly kneaded the soft flesh beneath his rough palms. The contrast made your toes curl.

“You… are so soft Y/N”, Ivar marveled, as if hit by a big revelation. “So breakable…”, he continued almost reverently, hands gripping you harder. The dark undertone embedded in his words did not go unnoticed by you.

Your quiet moans of approval egged him on to tentatively pinch and roll one of your nipples between his fingers, to pull and release it, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Ivar let out a delighted little laugh at that, repeating the procedure on your other breast.

“Mmm, you are being very good for me, Ivar. Keep going”, you praised, undulating your hips against his again in torturously slow circles.

In this moment you were not certain what you desired more: to make him lose himself completely to you or for him to pick you apart instead. The line was getting blurrier by the second.

It was like something finally crumbled inside Ivar as a particularly forceful roll of your hips tore a needy moan out of him.

“That’s it, let me hear your sweet voice”, you encouraged, feeling him swell and become fully erect against your inner thigh.

You grinned wickedly, feeling that familiar spark in your core igniting a flame beneath your skin, making you feel feverish and frenzied all at once.

Not long after, you found yourselves practically rutting against each other, something primal stirring within the both of you as you tore at each others clothes, letting hands touch and roam everywhere in a battle for dominance.

You undid his leather jerkin with shaky fingers, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside as he fumbled with the laces of your breeches before giving up with a huff and ripping the fabric apart instead.

You didn’t even have it in you to scold Ivar at that moment in your hurry to strip him of his undershirt. His smooth chest was heaving quickly in the warm glow of the hearth as you pushed the fabric up over his head, trailing scorching, open mouthed kisses along his toned abdomen.

Ivar’s breathing came out as deep ragged gasps by now, eyes glazed over and unfocused below his furrowed brow. One hand came to tangle in your hair, tugging, as the other grabbed for whatever purchase it could reach, blunt nails dragging across your shoulder blade.

“Come here, Y/N”, he growled impatiently after a moment’s struggle, grabbing you beneath the arms and dragging you up effortlessly, until your knees were set astride his chest. Ivar’s eyes raked down your body, his gaze so focused and intense that you could almost feel it physically. He stopped and fixated on the dark tangle of curls between your legs, curious fingers coming to ghost over your outer folds and feeling the warm wetness there seeping out.

“I did this to you.” It wasn’t really a question as much as it was a statement. An impish grin began tugging at the corner of his lips and he was nearly glowing with pride.

“Is it not obvious?”, you quirked an eyebrow at him, biting your lip as he continued to lazily drag the tips of his index and middle fingers through your folds, pausing to press lightly on your bundle of nerves.

Instead of answering you, he pulled his hand out from between your legs, curiously watching how the slick coating his fingers glistened in the low light. Then, with his eyes meeting yours, he brought the digits to his lips, pink tongue flicking out to taste your juices. He hummed in satisfaction and proceeded to lick his fingers clean of you.

You could not hold back the moan escaping you this time. You were beginning to feel faint with want as your legs threatened to buckle beneath you. You had to feel more of him, feel him on you. In you. It wasn’t enough. The overwhelming need clawed at your insides mercilessly. 

Ivar shimmied backwards a little so he could come sit up between your knees. His hands moved up to grab your ass and he squeezed hard, holding you in place and supporting your weight against his torso.

“You want me to have you, do you not?”, Ivar mouthed against the valley of your breasts, voice dripping like sweet honey, clouding your senses, making you feel drunk.

“You are right. However I am not sure how you plan on doing that with your trousers still on”, you managed to tease through your lust-induced brain fog. This earned you a sharp smack on the ass.

“Hmm, a clever girl, are you?” Ivar pretended to sound impressed, biting down on your nipple savagely.

“As if you do not already know the answer to that”, you hissed, tugging hard at the back of his head when the pain became too intense.

Ivar chuckled lowly, releasing your breast with a loud smack of his lips and his grip around you relenting somewhat.

You were quick to shuffle backwards on your knees, away from him, gaining back some control of the situation that had so thoroughly slipped out of your hands.

“Play nice”, you warned sternly from a safe distance, scowling.

Ivar held up his hands in mock-surrender, looking apologetic, but the grin on his face was still much too shit-eating to make the gesture believable.

With Ivar, unpredictability was usually the rule rather than the exception. He had a way of egging you on, making you fight back when he wished to rile you up. It was during these moments that you silently cursed yourself for your temper and how often it got the best of you, making you react in just the ways he wanted you to.

You busied yourself with unlacing his breeches, forcing yourself to slow down and to look for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. All the quarreling and teasing between the two of you aside, you did want to do this the right way. You did, after all, care very deeply for him, perhaps more than you were ready to admit.

“Are you fine with this?”, you asked, pausing to wait for his reply.

Ivar looked at you like he didn’t know what to make of you; like he had never been asked such a question before. Eventually, he nodded, returning to lean on his elbows.

Cocking his head, he appraised you silently, a hint of uncertainty fluttering over his features as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and tugged carefully. He lifted his hips to alleviate the task and soon his cock sprung free, curved and leaking against his belly.

“Look at you, so eager and ready for me”, you crooned sweetly, mouth nearly salivating at the sight.

He stared, perplexed, as if in the heat of the moment he hadn’t realised that he’d, in fact, gotten hard.

“Oh…”

All arrogance was gone in seconds, replaced by that sweet vulnerability you so yearned to wrap yourself around.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time right then, making you feel both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

“I was never one to believe the stories”, you shrugged, beaming down at him.

Ivar remained speechless.

“Can I touch you now?”, you smirked playfully, snapping him back to the present moment.

Ivar hummed his approval and held his breath, following your movements closely as you licked your palm and wrapped your hand around the smooth shaft.

He sucked in a deep breath, hands grabbing fistfulls of fur and hips bucking up instinctively to meet your touch.

“So beautiful”, you murmured, sincere in your words as you let your thumb caress over the swollen tip.

His head fell backwards, helpless moans escaping from his parted lips as he moved in rhythm with your strokes.

“That’s it, falleg strákur minn…” You could tell Ivar getting close by the way the back of his head hit the rug, how his breaths became more and more erratic and how he practically vibrated beneath you.

You let go of his cock right before his release and were rewarded with a frustrated groan in return. “Please… Y/N.”

It was quiet, but you heard it. A fresh wave of warmth pooled between your legs as you positioned yourself above him, lining him up at your entrance.

“Shhh, elskan, I am here”, you soothed, slowly sinking down onto him, feeling yourself stretch perfectly around him.

Ivar arched off the rug with a shuddering gasp, hands coming to grab at your waist as you stilled, giving the both of you time to adjust. He held on for dear life, body tense and fingers leaving bruises in their wake where they held you in place. His eyes were heavy, black with lust and dark intention as they bore into yours.

You leaned down, not being able to resist the gravitational pull he seemed to have on you, and met his lips in a heated kiss that was mostly tongue, teeth and exchanging of oxygen as you began moving slowly and tentatively above him.

Ivar groaned loudly beneath you, grinding his teeth as you picked up your pace. Warm and demanding hands slid down to your ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he helped you find a comfortable pace. He began meeting your thrusts with a sharp snap of his own hips, angling slightly and reaching that sensitive spot deep inside of you. You cursed loudly, almost toppling over Ivar but managing to brace yourself on his shoulders.

Your fingers came to circle the sensitive nub between your folds as you bounced on Ivar’s lap mercilessly, spurred on by his whispered encouragement and with the new angle providing you with much needed friction. You felt the familiar heat building up in your core, spreading like wildfire to every limb of your body.

Unintelligible curses and needy pleas fell from Ivar’s lips like a prayer as his breathing became more ragged and erratic, eyes threatening to roll back in his skull as he neared his own release. He was trashing beneath you like a man possessed, back arching with each deep thrust and head lolling from side to side, burying himself impossibly deeper inside of you.

The taut muscles of his abdomen contracted and twitched as he finally spilled his release inside of you with a drawn out wail.

You stumbled over the edge mere seconds later, crying out and clutching to his frame as you trembled and spasmed violently around him.

The both of you lay in a sweaty heap on the floor for a long time, too tired to move a muscle.

Eventually you got off of Ivar, who was busy staring at the ceiling with a serene expression on his face.

You suddenly felt like laughing, but instead laid down beside him to stare at the ceiling as well. The following silence was not an unwelcome one.

“Do you want me to stay or should I leave?”, you asked after a while, rolling over to your stomach to see him properly.

Ivar shrugged. “You can do as you please. You are a free woman, are you not?”, he said, attempting to sound nonchalant, cocky, but you knew to choose your next words carefully. He could shut you out just as easily as he had let you in.

“You know what I mean”, you sighed, giving his arm a playful shove before becoming serious again. “I will gladly stay with you, Ivar. That was the whole point of… this”, you gestured at the both of you.

You saw the strain around his eyes melting away instantly, his face softening. He turned his head to look at you, the mischievous glimmer back in his eye.

“Good, because I am far from done with you yet.”


End file.
